


21

by xfitzwellsx



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfitzwellsx/pseuds/xfitzwellsx
Summary: Isabella finds herself defending Charlotte when a fight breaks out at the tavern.





	21

There was a commotion among the people of the tavern, whoops and hollers mixed with laughter. Saturday nights were for the raunchy townspeople, able to get together for games of cards among the tables in the dimly lit tavern and if one was lucky enough, Emily Lacey put a discount on anybody’s drink who paid her for a romp with one of her girls.

It was nearing closer to midnight, and Charlotte Wells was nearing drunk. She sat opposite a nobleman in the center of the tavern, between them a deck of cards and in front, two cards for Charlotte, and three for him. In the center, seven pounds. Beside her, Lady Isabella sat patiently, watching the lingering eyes of the men around them and making sure her position with Charlotte was known; one hand resting on the harlot’s thigh and her lips whispering words of encouragement into Charlotte’s ear as she played.

The nobleman across from Charlotte was the dealer; as the game Blackjack swept across the nation in the past fifty years, Charlotte grew fond of it and practiced until she’d had the upperhand in almost every round she’d played. She was Wells woman through and through, and money had always seemed like a fair reward for her. She and the dealer stared one another down, a wicked smirk on Charlotte’s lips. She’d won each hand since the game had started; it wasn’t her fault that the poor fool kept throwing in higher stakes in an attempt to scare her. She was, after all, the Queen of Pretend, and could spot a liar miles away.

The two cards sitting in front of her were face up: two nines smiling up at them. That left Charlotte with an incredibly small chance of being dealt a card equaling four or less, and she took a moment to think. Two of the dealers cards faced up, the third intentionally facing down so Charlotte couldn’t see. Her and the nobleman locked eyes tentatively - he didn’t look pleased at having lost the last few rounds, Charlotte could see it in the way the tips of his ears began to get red. 

Isabella, noticing her lovers hesitation, had also been observing the cards. She had advantage in the game when she played because Isabella was quiet, and used to keeping things to herself; she had little to no telltale signs that she was doing well or not. Leaning in to Charlotte’s side, she brushed her lips against her ear to feign affection, whispering “Hit,” low enough to not be heard and accused of cheating from those around her. Charlotte’s lips curled at the ends slightly, her eyes never leaving the nobleman as her fingers hovered over her cards.

“Hit.” She requested, sending one nod his way. The nobleman faltered, and Charlotte swore she saw his eyebrow twitch. It felt like an eternity before he moved his hand over the deck and presented Charlotte with a card without taking a look at its value. Charlotte swiftly swiped it from his fingers, turning the card over and taking a minute before she glanced down at it. 

She paused a moment to take her glass of gin from the table, sipping at it casually before setting it down and placing the card in her fingers face up onto the table beside her two nines - a four. With a perfect score of twenty-one, the money was Charlotte’s for the taking as the nobleman turned his third card over, and busted with a score of twenty three.

There was an eruption of applause and laughter from the table, the people around them throwing up their hands, some shaking Charlotte’s shoulders in congratulations. Isabella let out a melodious victory chuckle as she leaned in to press her lips against Charlotte’s cheek, leaving a light lipstick stain in her path. Friends of the nobleman teased him endlessly, jesting as they shoved him playfully and threw jokes about his manhood. 

The nobleman, however, was the only one not celebrating. Being bested by a woman, a harlot, of all things, fueled a rage inside him that had been bubbling the entire night. With one harsh motion, he brought his hands under the table and gripped it tightly, using all of his strength to toss it forward and collapse it on its side. Cards and coins flew about, scattering the grounds as he stood, enraged. Glasses shattered to the floor of the tavern, drawing the attention of almost anybody inside. 

The celebrations had ceased; Lady Isabella stood almost instantly at the action and grabbed onto Charlotte’s arm, trying to drag from harm’s way. “I’ll have what she stole from me!” The nobleman seethed with anger, grabbing onto one of Charlotte’s wrists and attempting to drag her from Isabella’s hold. Drunk and disorderly, Charlotte furrowed her brows at this, not wanting to go with him. 

“Ay, fuck off!” She argued as she tore her wrist from his hold, teetering backwards into Isabella who caught her last moment from falling to the ground. But he didn’t stop there, lunging forward as glass cracked beneath his shoes and grabbing Charlotte by the hair, causing her to hiss out in pain. 

“Infernal whore!” He yelled, tightening his grip. He shoved Charlotte against the bar counter by the head, and nobody missed the way one of his hands forced its way under Charlotte’s skirts, as if he was going to get what he was missing by violating her in front of the tavern. At this Isabella saw red, not even aware of the fact that she’d bent down instantly, grabbing the nearest shard of glass she could before she wrapped her long, strong fingers around the nobleman’s throat and squeezed as hard as she could. 

This made him loosen his grip on Charlotte, who, in her drunk state, was unable to keep his body weight off of her. Another pair of strong arms from the crowd grabbed the nobleman by the shoulders, pulling him off of Charlotte and causing his hand to be snatched from Charlotte’s petticoats. It was Will, paternal instinct drawing him to the crowd when he’d heard the table crash from the other side of the tavern. The nobleman was tossed into one of the tables with a grunt, and Isabella didn’t stop her pursuit of him as she leaned over his groaning body against the knocked over table, breathing heavy with blind rage.

There was a hate in her eyes none but Harcourt had ever seen. 

She pressed the tip of the broken glass against the nobleman’s chin, pushing it up slightly so that their eyes met in the dimly lit room. It was silent around them all for Charlotte’s attempt to catch her own breath, and the sound only reminded Isabella of how angry she actually was. “I should cut your hands off,” she spat in his face, her voice dangerously low and hostile. The nobleman swallowed as Isabella gripped the glass shard tighter, only flinching slightly as it pierced through her own skin on her palm, ignoring the pain as the warm blood began to slowly trickling down her arm and onto the man’s vest. 

In another moment the man built up a ball of spit in his throat and hucked it up into Isabella’s face, the wad of phlegm hitting Isabella in the cheek. Bewildered, and mostly disrespected, Lady Isabella was just about read to shove the piece of glass up into his jaw when she felt someone’s hands pulling back at her shoulders, attempting to pull her off of the nobleman so that she didn’t outright kill him in a crowded room. It was Emily Lacey, tiny and skinny but surprisingly strong when it came to the order of her tavern. 

Isabella stumbled back as she was pulled off of the attacker, dropping the glass in her hand and for once taking a glance at the damage she’d inflicted on herself. It wasn’t too deep of a cut, but the blood continued to flow freely. “Get out of my tavern!” Emily hollered towards the nobleman, one of her tavern men hoisting him up by the vest and shoving him towards the door. The silence was deafening throughout the tavern. “Well go on!” Emily ushered the crowds, insisting they return back to their business. “And you!” She pointed a finger towards Isabella accusingly, “I don’t want your blood on my floors. Go upstairs and get cleaned up.” She instructed a moment later, somewhat softer. “Boys!” Emily snapped her fingers towards her tavern men, and pointed at the mess, before walking off back towards the bar.

“Move,” Isabella demanded as she made her way through the crowd, using her wide shoulders to create a path for herself until she found Charlotte, who’d been taken away from the scene by Will and sat a bit away in the back of the tavern. Isabella joined them, clutching her hand against her bodice in an attempt to hide the wound and not worry Charlotte. But the blood was seeping through, crawling down the fabric and onto her skirts. 

“Isabella!” Charlotte gasped lightly at the sight, attempting to stand to try and get a better look, eyes filled with worry. Instead, the harlot couldn’t find her balance and fell forward into her lover, causing Isabella to hiss in pain as her open wound was pressed harsher into her dress. But yet she wrapped her good arm around her beloved and kept her on her feet, and Will scooted deeper into the booth so that Isabella could sit Charlotte down, and take her place beside her.

The drunken harlot reached out to take Isabella’s hand softly, prying it from her stomach and setting it on the table atop a napkin. At the sight of the gash Charlotte bit down on her lip - it had been her fault. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head looking up at Isabella, who only furrowed her brows in confusion. 

“There’s no need.” She assured Charlotte, “He was an animal. He should have gotten what he deserved.” She explained quietly, glancing down at her hand. “Are you alright?” Isabella asked after a beat, searching Charlotte’s eyes for any sign of distress from the situation. Charlotte nodded quietly, shrugging almost casually in a form that broke Isabella’s heart. 

“I’ll go and grab something for that,” Will grunted as he made his way out of the booth on the other side, leaving the two women alone. 

Charlotte was quiet for a moment as she gazed down at the cut, her finger gently running along the outside of it, careful not to touch it directly. Still Isabella flinched slightly, and Charlotte looked up at her sadly. “...thank you,” she offered quietly, pressing her lips to Isabella’s cheek affectionately, albeit sloppily. This made Isabella chuckle, and distracted her from the pain in her hand momentarily. “Does it hurt terribly?” Charlotte asked softly, resting her head against Isabella’s shoulder. 

“I want to protect you. It seems you’ve lit a flame inside of me, Ms. Wells.” Isabella spoke, her voice like butter against Charlotte’s intoxicated ears. At the next question she nodded, unaware of how much it hurt until she’d had a moment to sit down and think about it. “Quite.” She admitted, never having been one to sugar coat how she felt around Charlotte. But she was more worried about the younger woman and what she’d experienced in the last few minutes; Isabella wondered if it was something that happened often when you were in a profession such as Charlotte’s. After a moment she realized that was a question she didn’t want answered for the sake of her own well being when Charlotte was away working. “Though I would be a shameful liar in saying your affections weren’t helping.” Isabella broke into a small smile and blush, and Charlotte’s heart did a flip as she leaned in to place another kiss to Isabella’s cheek, then another, softer one to her lips.

A moment later Will returned with aid supplies; some medicine and medical linen to wrap around Isabella’s hand. The mood shifted a little with his return as he took Isabella’s hand and pulled it forward gently so that he could get a better look at it. “Don’t stop on my account,” he shook his head in amusement, eyeing his daughter knowingly. “Fly on the wall. This’ll sting.” He added a moment later, before soaking a rag with water and beginning to clean the area around the wound.

Isabella hissed out sharply in pain, flinching against Charlotte who took hold of her other hand for support. Her strong fingers clutched onto Charlotte’s as Will continued to dab at the wound, and Charlotte groaned slightly in discomfort at the feeling. “Who knew a Lady could bring so much pain with just her fingers?” Will chuckled at Charlotte’s pained expression.

“The pleasure far outweighs the pain, so I’ll dare say it’s worth it.” Charlotte managed out in a slur, chuckling at her own little joke. Isabella squeezed Charlotte’s hand a little harder at that, trying not to blush in front of her lovers father. Will laughed at this, Charlotte being the ever spitting image of her mother when she was the same age.

Eventually he finished cleaning the wound, spotting medicine onto it before beginning to wrap it in linen. The bleeding had stopped, now all that was left to do was to keep it from getting infected. “Let me pay you for your kindness, Mr. North.” Isabella offered, thanking him with her smile and eyes as she brought her hand back to her lap. Charlotte took it then and brought it to her lips, kissing her hand palm up against the linen sweetly like a mother would to her child’s wound.

“I’d sooner pay that nobleman his seven pounds,” Will chuckled as he declined her offer with a shake of his head. “Consider it a favor. For putting your safety at risk to ensure my daughters. Just be sure the both of you return home safe.” He nodded once towards the pair with a smile, before standing and again leaving the two alone.

“I suppose you threatening men with shards of glass is the molly girl version of a man asking a woman’s father for his blessing. And I think you’ve got it.” Charlotte snickered in her stupor, watching as Will looked back at the pair and sent his daughter a wink. 

“...I suppose so.” Isabella smiled, the pain in her hand just about disappearing at the thought.


End file.
